Chase the Ace

by Clare London

  A rustle of movement behind me, and Nick appeared in the reflection, standing in the doorway to the bathroom with just his jeans on, smiling at me. “Good morning.”

  My own smile deepened and I blushed. “Good morning.” I had to bite back the automatic “did you have a good night?” because I already knew the answer to that. Last night, after cleaning up, we’d drifted off to sleep in our own beds, sated and deliciously exhausted. But in the dark, small hours of the early morning, Nick had crossed the room and slipped into bed with me. We stroked each other to a very quick and very sweet climax, then kissed slowly and drowsily until we sighed back into sleep. And I’d woken up with him still an arm’s length away.

  Yes, it had been a very good night.

  “Dan.” He came into the bathroom where there was barely enough space for one man to spread out, let alone two, but I liked the way he pressed against me without embarrassment. He put a hand to my cheek. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I said. I meant it, too. I felt relaxed and happy about the whole thing. How good was that?

  “You’re not tempted to stay here in the bright lights, now you’ve seen what became of one of your friends?”

  “God, no!” Apart from knowing I didn’t have the talent, I remembered the flicker of loneliness in Gerry’s eyes. Two performances a night, always on show. However much he loved it, it didn’t leave much time for anything else.

  “Good.” Nick grinned. “I wasn’t looking forward to going back alone and having to explain to your sister how you’d been seduced by the world of show business. Let’s go for breakfast, eh? Gerry promised that café he recommended would have smoked haddock on the menu, which is always a treat for me. And then we’ll set off for Hampshire.”

  He leaned in and kissed me, quite unashamedly. What’s more, I kissed back just as enthusiastically. Then, with a laugh, he nudged me out of the bathroom so he could wash as well.

  IT TOOK us almost two hours to get across country to Hampshire, but it was a comfortable drive and I rested easily in Nick’s car. My limbs were pleasantly tired from our activity the previous night, and every glance across at Nick was an even more agreeable reminder.

  “Have you ever driven?” he asked. “I know a lot of people don’t bother with a car in London. The public transport’s good enough. I probably only keep a car myself because I travel for work and drive up to Norfolk regularly to visit my parents.”

  “Oh, I passed my test at seventeen. But then I found it really hard to reconcile driving with the memory of how Mum and Dad died.”

  “Shit.” Nick’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I put my foot in it again, didn’t I? I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine. You weren’t to know. And I’ve always lived and worked locally, so it’s never been a problem. I’m sure if I travelled more, I’d go back to a car.” I sneaked another glance at his flushed face. It was intriguing to compare the uncertain man beside me in the car today with the masterful man in bed last night.

  “Will you tell me about Mark?” Nick was obviously keen to change the subject.

  “Well, he was the most timid of us. The most immature too, or so I remember. His parents wanted him to go to university, but he wasn’t expected to get the grades. The last I heard, a local technical college was being considered for him. But basically he had no idea what he wanted to do.”

  “He kept in touch with Gerry for a while.”

  “Yes, that was interesting to hear. He was always a follower, and Gerry was definitely ahead of the crowd. Mark must have been drawn to that.”

  “Until his boyfriend stopped him?”

  “Hmm, yes.”

  I’d found Mark annoying and weak at times, just like the others had, but he’d still been part of the group, and I’d felt instinctively protective towards him. But he wasn’t a sixteen-year-old anymore, was he? He’d be a grown man of nearly thirty, like me. He’d have made his choices and was presumably content living with them.

  After some more wrangling with Nick’s satnav, we found the village where Mark lived, in the New Forest, just outside Lyndhurst. The journey was picturesque, driving through the trees and fields, with the sun sneaking bravely through patches of clouds, washing the grassy ferns with a golden glint. But as we drove into his road, I grew uneasy. The housing estate was full of generic homes, very modest, very suburban. The curtains were all lacy, the lawns clipped. Everyone’s external paintwork was the same, and the numbers on their front doors were the same shining brass. Even the cars in the drives were similar, all newly washed and polished.

  I glanced across to the driver’s seat.

  Nick was looking back at me. “Not what you expected?”

  “Not really.” I frowned. “Of course, I don’t know what he’s been up to since that summer. But I never imagined….”

  “He’d live somewhere like this?”

  “I don’t know. It looks very respectable, almost affluent. Maybe I thought he’d still be at home or in a small flat somewhere local. I would have called first to explain I was on my way, but Gerry didn’t have the phone number.”

  “You want to go back?”

  “No, we’re here now. Let’s see if he’s there.”

  Nick parked the car in the nearest free space to number 56, and we climbed out. I walked up the carefully swept gravel drive and knocked at the door. Even that sounded discreetly muted, and I took a step back. Seconds later, the door swung open and a man burst out onto the porch, almost bumping into me. I was ready with my embarrassed explanation, but I saw at once it was Mark—and he was smiling broadly.

  “Daniel! It is, isn’t it? How lovely to see you again! I saw the car drive up and wondered who it could be. I mean, it’s not one I know from the Close, even though Mary B is meant to be taking delivery of her new Renault this week, and of course Pete and Paula have their son staying over again.”

  “I… no. I mean yes, it’s me.” Had he been peering through those lacy curtains at us? “Good to see you, Mark. I hope you don’t mind us just dropping in like this.”

  “Of course not!”

  Most of what he said seemed to end in a virtual exclamation mark. He was casually but smartly dressed and looked well, but his voice was high and his enthusiasm felt like it came from his sixteen-year-old self rather than the man he was today. “Please, come in. It’s really good to see you, Daniel. After all these years!”

  “You too, Mark.”

  The hallway carpet was deep and so very pale it made me worry whether I had dirt on my soles. Nick caught my arm and gestured to ask if he should stay in the car, but I beckoned him in with me. I was going to need moral support.

  “Mark, this is my friend Nick, if you don’t mind me bringing him along.”

  “Of course not!” He shepherded us into the lounge, his hand on the small of my back. “Any friend of yours, Daniel, and all that.”

  There was a large pair of matching leather sofas framing the window bay, and a man sitting on one of them. He rose slowly to face us.

  “And this is my husband, Edward,” Mark said, with unmistakeable pride.

  Husband? It startled me, though I wasn’t quite sure why. Obviously I hadn’t been in a vacuum all this time and was pleased we now had the opportunity of same-sex marriages. In fact, Eric had mentioned it pointedly to me a couple of times, though I’d usually changed the subject. I’d just never thought of Mark Cunningham as a trailblazer.

  “Hello,” Edward said, shaking Nick’s hand and then mine with an overly tight grip. He stepped beside Mark and put an arm around his shoulders. “Please sit down. Nice of you to call.”

  Nick and I perched on the other sofa while Edward insisted on going to get us a drink. I glanced around the room to find it decorated in pale pastels, everything clean, well dusted, and in its appointed place. Over by the other sofa was a smart, empty dog basket—in a matching shade.

  “We’re hoping to get a dog soon!” Mark said excitedly. “It’ll be company for me.”

 
; “Darling?” Edward reappeared in the doorway to the lounge, carrying a tray with a bottle of some dark liquid and four squat glasses. Bizarrely, an embroidered cloth lined the tray.

  Mark glanced up at Edward, eyes widening. “Heavens, darling, I didn’t mean to complain, of course I didn’t! We have plenty of company, what with the neighbourhood watch and the community church committee. We have the parents here for Sunday lunch, alternate weeks, and Edward often brings his colleagues from the university around.”

  I turned to Edward, asking politely, “You work at the university?”

  “Yes, at Southampton. I lecture in economics.”

  “Edward is head of department and a leading member of the debating team.” Mark almost gushed. “He also runs extra coaching at his golf club for the students. He’s wonderful at giving back to the young people!”

  “I just like sharing our happiness,” Edward said. He smiled possessively at Mark.

  I didn’t turn my head fully, but I noted Nick’s quick glance at me.

  “This is our own recipe,” Edward continued, pouring out a generous helping of the dark liquid for all of us. “It’s a special coffee liqueur.”

  “We drank it on holiday in the Algarve,” Mark said. He threw back his glassful, then held it out for a refill. “We loved it so much we make our own now. Have another!”

  Nick refused quickly. He’d only taken a small sip of the first helping and had to put a hand over the top of his glass to stop Edward pouring more.

  I blinked hard. “What are you doing nowadays, Mark?”

  “I do some freelance work. I’m a qualified masseur, you know. And I’m very busy looking after the house and Edward’s career. I don’t really have a spare moment to myself!” His laugh was overloud, but that could have been because he was already onto his third glassful of liqueur. I tried to put my glass down surreptitiously on the table, but he caught my eye and beamed at me. I felt I had to take another gulp, to be polite.

  “So to what do we owe the honour of your visit, Daniel?” Edward had perched himself on the arm of the sofa beside Mark. There was plenty of room on the seat cushions: he didn’t have to squash up awkwardly like that.

  I swallowed carefully, unnerved by his oddly formal question. “I… well, I’m hoping to find my group of friends from the SSSC that summer. See how they are, what they’re doing.”

  “After all this time?” Edward asked. There was a sharp edge to his question.

  I glanced at him but his expression was studiedly bland. Was he provoking me? I refused to be baited and turned to Mark. “Do you remember that summer at the SSSC? The four of us?”

  Mark’s gaze flickered with something like excitement, then his eyes dimmed, almost as if he’d deliberately tamped down his emotions. “Yes, I do. We had a lot of fun. We were only boys, of course.”

  We talked for a while about a few of the sports tournaments and some of the characters in the club. Mark laughed often, a more relaxed, youthful sound; though I didn’t miss the way that Edward’s hand rested on his shoulder all the time.

  “More liqueur?” Mark asked us. “It’s homemade!”

  Bravely, Nick took another hit, but it was my turn to protect the top of my glass with my hand.

  I asked, “Do you remember that day we played chase the ace?”

  Mark’s expression didn’t falter, but his pupils dilated. “I don’t think so. We played a lot of card games, though. We were often indoors. You can’t rely on good weather in a British summer, can you?” His laugh was more awkward now.

  “Do you keep in touch with anyone from the SSSC? Anyone from our gang?”

  Mark shook his head. “My dad and I moved away a few years later. I lost touch with most of my old friends. I was lucky to meet Edward through the local church, and we’ve built our own life now. We have joint membership at the local gym, where we go Tuesdays and Thursdays, and an allotment for growing our own produce, you know.” He looked too genuinely proud to be called smug, but he didn’t look as though he wanted to talk about the past anymore.

  “May I ask who gave you our address?” Edward asked.

  Nick lifted his head as if he’d also heard the challenge in Edward’s tone that time.

  “Gerry Cole,” I replied, directing it to Mark. “He told us you’d lost touch.”

  “I don’t see Gerry anymore. It was only a couple of times,” Mark said. He sounded almost too-perfectly calm. “But that reminds me, I do have an address for Alec Masters! My father’s an estate agent, and Alec asked for some advice on buying a house. It was several years after that summer, and he was in a small flat at the time. I don’t think he ever followed through, but I still have a card with his address on.”

  He got up from the sofa, quick and eager to be of help. “I’ll fetch it for you!”

  We sat awkwardly silent while Mark raced upstairs, then back down with a faded business card in his hand. He handed it to me, then sat back down beside Edward. “That’s okay, isn’t it, darling?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course.” Edward smiled at him, but his glance at me was wary.

  “Alec emailed me several times after that,” Mark said. “Not that I understood why at first. He wasn’t particularly friendly at the club, was he, Daniel?” I had to nod agreement at that. “I suppose he just thought I was someone he could talk to.”

  Someone he could bully, more like. I couldn’t remember any time Alec had turned to any of us for a friendly chat. He’d tagged along with the group until we were used to him, but I didn’t recall him bonding sympathetically with us.

  Funny how the memory played tricks. Thinking back now, I remembered the day Alec spilled tea on Gerry’s best new shoes, in a move that looked deliberate. And the time he pretended for several days that he’d entered Mark for the girls’ netball team. He’d never riled me as much as the others, or maybe I’d faced up to him better.

  “Then it stopped, quite abruptly,” Mark continued. “One day he was saying how confused he was and needed help, and then he just cut me off. He said he was moving away, so I couldn’t visit him. He even changed his email address!” Mark sounded as if that were the greatest betrayal of all time. “I couldn’t reach him.”

  “It was for the best,” Edward said.

  “We’d hoped we could be a good influence on him, but he never gave us a chance.” Mark gave a heartfelt sigh.

  “Why was he confused?” I asked.

  “We have no idea,” Edward answered, more quickly this time. “And to be honest, I didn’t think it appropriate for Mark to continue the friendship.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Have another drink,” Mark said. Before I could agree or not, he tipped up the bottle and filled my glass. “It’s homemade, you know!”

  “I know!” I snapped.

  Nick put his hand over his mouth, stifling a cough or perhaps a laugh.

  I stood, marshalling a smile. “We really have to go, I’m afraid. We have to get back, and I don’t want to disturb your plans any further.”

  “Stay for dinner!” Mark urged. “Please. Edward’s a marvellous cook, and we’re having some of my best home-grown carrots and potatoes. And Edward’s got some hysterically funny stories from his time in the neighbourhood watch!”

  I refused politely. Then again. And finally all but pushed Nick towards the front door while Mark ran back to the kitchen, insisting he’d fetch us a bottle of the liqueur to take with us.

  Edward stopped us at the door. He turned quite deliberately so his back was to Nick, and he spoke to me alone. “Mark is a very sensitive man,” he said. “Please don’t disturb him again.”

  “That was never my intention.” I couldn’t help bristling. “I’m just looking up old friends, that’s all. If you’re worried about that—”

  Edward interrupted me with a laugh, a genuine sound of delight. “Of course not! Not in principle. But they should be the right ones for him, shouldn’t they?”

  Chapter 7

  EVENING HAD fallen
while we were in the house. The air outside had cooled, and shadows slid drowsily across the drive. As Nick and I neared the car, I heard running footsteps on the gravel behind me. Mark came to a halt beside me, breathing heavily. He thrust a bottle of the dark liqueur into my hands before I could think to refuse it.

  “I’m glad I caught you. I can’t spend much time, I’m—” He glanced back at the house. “—expected back in a minute. I just wanted to make sure we’ll….” He paused again.

  “Keep in touch?” I was surprised how much I wanted that. “Yes, of course.”

  “Not on Facebook!” he added quickly. “Edward and I decided it’s not moderated sufficiently. We don’t go online now except to our regular email, and of course we make sure to change the password weekly. Here’s the address.” He thrust a pink sticky note into my palm. His fingers brushed over my wrist, and I didn’t think it was by mistake. “I do remember the card game, Daniel,” he said in a rush. “But it’s such a long time ago! My memory is vague. Edward says it’s not constructive to dwell on distressing things from the past, you know?”

  “Yes, I do,” I said. The memories that had encouraged me to investigate obviously stirred up something very different—and more upsetting—in Mark.

  “But I think it’s very exciting, going on a quest,” he said. He looked at me quite slyly. “Not that Edward… not that we’d enjoy it. We’re homebodies, through and through!”

  “I’ll email you soon,” I promised. I wondered about the cloying atmosphere in the house, about his husband’s possessiveness. “Look, if you need anything….”

  To my astonishment, he laughed. “You look worried, Daniel. I hope it’s not on my behalf!”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a bemused look on Nick’s face. “No. Of course not.”

  “Edward has been marvellous to me!” Mark said. “He was what my life needed. He’s what I need.”